Carry On My Wayward Child (Book 1 of Another World)
by justanothergeekygirl
Summary: Pierce wakes up in different place. She wasn't kidnapped, neither is she reported lost by anybody. She finds herself in a totally different country and continent put under the care of Dean and Sam Winchester. She has been sent here for a reason and the boys must protect her at all cost. Will she trust two strange men with her life?
1. Chapter 1

I wake up in a different place. It is nothing like my bedroom. A bright light ahead blinds me and the coarse sheets under me are not the ones on my bed. I stir and turn away from the light trying rubbing my eyes until I can see again. The stale scent of unwashed clothes hit me as I look around to see where I am.

Sunlight is shining through windows that do not belong to my room. Beside my bed is another one just like it but empty. I hear some movements in from my left and I look towards that direction. I sit up straight away when I see that there are two strange men in the room with me. One is sifting through files and papers while the other is reading something from his laptop. They hear me get up and look at me.

"Dude, she's awake," the guy from the laptop says. He has long-ish hair and looks to be in his early thirties.

"What? Oh," the other responds as they both get up and walk towards me. The other guy wears a short haircut and looks a few years older than the first.

Startled and scared, I slide off the other side of the bed and retreat backwards as fast as I can. They advance until they see my scared expression. They both hold their hands up in a gesture of assurance that they aren't armed.

"Who are you?" I ask them, still backing away because they get taller and taller as they advance.

The laptop guy stopped and raised his hands in a calming gesture. "It's okay, we're not gonna hurt you." Standing up, he is a lot taller than his companion, who is scary tall enough.

"Where am I?" I ask, trying to keep my voice in check. "Who are you people?"

The laptop guy spoke again, "I'm Sam and this is my brother, Dean." When I say nothing, he takes a hesitant step forwards.

"Don't come near me," I plead and Sam stops.

"We're not gonna hurt you," Sam soothes. He takes a look at my resolute face and says, "Okay, we'll stay here if you're comfortable. Tell us your name and where you're from, maybe we can help you."

I glance between the two of them and assess them in my head. I guess they are Americans, judging their accents. Dean is easily six feet tall and I don't want to even think about Sam. They sit on the bed I just vacated. Sam leans forward like I'm an injured wild animal he's trying to help. Dean, on the other hand, just regards me with knit eyebrows.

"Where am I?" I ask again.

"You're in a motel, on the outskirts of Texas," Dean finally says.

"Texas? As in America, Texas?" I cannot believe it. I am not from Texas, I am not even from the US.

"Well," Dean shrugs, "As far as I know, yeah."

"What do you remember?" Sam asks.

I search my confused brain, and answer, "I was sleeping, in my bed… at home." I look at them and they both have an eyebrow shot up.

"How did you get all the way out here?" Dean asks.

I shake my head, feeling tears threaten to fall. "I don't know," I croak. "I was just sleeping at home. This is all a dream, right? I'm just dreaming."

"Where are you from?" Sam asks.

I look him in the eye say, "South East Asia."

Dean pulls a face. "You're very far away from home."

"It must be a dream," I mutter to myself.

"I don't think this is a dream, honey. It's pretty real to me," Dean says. "We found you lying at the side of the road last night, and Sam decided to take you along with us. We were going to send you to the hospital if it wasn't so late and we're so far out of town."

I shake my head. This cannot be, I must be dreaming. Everything seems so real, though. There is nothing dream like here, no romanticized things, no soft pillows, nothing. The smell of the dirty carpets is real enough for me. The only thing unreal about all this is the two strangers that come from a race I'm not even accustomed to seeing.

Dean looks at his watch and says, "We have to leave this place and I guess you're stuck with us until we find out how you travelled halfway around the world without you knowing and how to get you back."

"So you believe me?" I ask hopefully. "You don't think I'm crazy? Can you help get me back?"

"We believe you," Sam says.

"But whether or not we can get you back is a different matter," Dean cuts in. "We'll try our best." He takes a look at the oversized t-shirt and denim shorts I am always guilty of sleeping in before saying, "But first, let's get you some clothes."

I sit in the back of their rather vintage looking car. It's a black Chevrolet, rather squarely built but sleek all the same. It's a very beautiful car.

"Impala 1967," Dean had said proudly. "She's my baby."

Dean studies me through his back view mirror. "How old are you, anyway? You don't look older than 18."

"I'm fifteen," I say. "I turn sixteen next March."

We park in front of a small boutique and we walk in. The place is empty aside from the shopkeeper. I'm grateful that they have central heating because the short walk from the car to the shop gave me goose bumps all over my exposed legs and bare feet.

"Alright," Dean claps his hands, "You're gonna need some t-shirts, some jackets, a pair of boots, and jeans."

I select some plain t-shirts, two plaid shirts, a black hoodie, some socks and a pair of very comfortable yet solid boots. The boots have heels on them but I hardly feel anything and I feel less tiny next to them with the extra couple inches. I pick a pair of skinny black jeans along with two more boot cut blue jeans. Sam passes me two more jackets, one with black leather outside and fur lining inside and another denim jacket.

"It's rather cold this time of year, you'll need to wear at least three layers to keep warm," he explains.

They are decent enough to go away when I chose a few sets of underwear. They pay for my things and Dean gets me a duffel bag to keep all my clothes in. I hide in the back seat to change as Dean drives us to a small diner at the edge of town. We have breakfast then we are on the highway leading to Louisiana.

"So what is it that you guys do?" I ask as I watch the plains roll past.

"Well, we're hunters," Sam says hesitantly. "We hunt… things."

"What sort of things?"

"Supernatural things, like demons, vampires, and all that stuff."

"Do you actually see the supernatural things or is it all just chants and spells?" I ask. I have seen enough shows back home to know some people don't actually see what they're hunting.

"Oh we see them, alright," Dean chuckles. "We are quite up close and personal with these things."

"Okay," I say, I don't want to judge anybody. "So what are you hunting now?"

"There are some mysterious deaths happening in Louisiana and there might be more than meets the eye about the deaths," Sam explains. "So we are going there to check out the scenes and see if we can put a stop to it."

I nod silently and continue staring out the window.


	2. Chapter 2

We pull up to civilization once more after dark, we reach a dingy motel and Dean checks us in. The bearded guy behind the counter looks at me funny when Dean asks for just one room. Dean had asked me in the car if I'm okay with sharing a room with them or if I wanted my own room. I don't like the idea of being alone in a strange place at night so I said I didn't mind sharing a room. By the looks of things, they don't seem to earn much from hunting so I don't want to add burden to them either.

I carry my duffel into the room that smells like the one I woke up in. I guess I just have to get used to it, there are no 5 star hotels here. The room has one small coffee table and two chairs next to the door and only two beds. I put my bag down and explore the small room. It has a decent bathroom, not too covered in slime but a stale smell all the same.

Sam closes the door behind him and Dean sits at the table with the laptop. I offer to sleep on the floor but Sam insists I take a bed. After a full day stuck in the car with them, I gather that Sam is the more considerate and hospitable of the two. Dean carries an air of confidence and leadership from which I can deduce that he is older than Sam. Sam is more serious than Dean, softer and kinder but with a touch of seriousness in almost everything he says.

We shed our jackets and leave only two layers of clothing on and I settle on the bed cross-legged to watch them as they work. I watch as they discuss what to do the next morning when they go to the crime scene and read reports on the deaths.

"So this guy has his throat slashed in his own home? Is there any sign on breaking in? Struggles?"

"No signs of forced entry. The victim is alone at home so there is no eye witness to the murder."

"So we're going to the site tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but what are we gonna do with her? We can't bring her there."

"Bring me where?" I ask.

"To the murder site," Dean answers. "Unless you can help and don't mind some blood and gore."

"So long as the body is not there, I'm fine," I say.

"Don't you worry about that, the police would've taken it in for post mortem already. So we can bring her, then," Dean decides, looking at Sam.

Sam looks at me, "I don't know. It could be dangerous."

"Nah, it's daytime! Nothing much happens in daytime," Dean declares.

"Fine," Sam says. "But we need to solve her case as well."

Dean looks at me from top to toe, a scowl on my forehead as a sign of thinking. "Yeah, but we don't know where to start, do we?" I am caught by surprise when he said that so gently, so different from his usual loud sarcasm.

Dean glances at his watch and looks at me again, saying in his gentler voice, "You should get some sleep; we have an early day tomorrow."

The drive had worn me out and he doesn't have to tell me twice. I went blank as soon as I hit the pillows.

I wake up in the dark in a more comfortable environment than the one I fell asleep in. I look around, and see that I'm back in my room. I scowled, that is the weirdest dream I have ever had. I reach for my phone and look at the time. It's only just past midnight, not five minutes from when I fell asleep. I sigh and close my eyes again, trying to forget that dream that feels only too real.

The alarm clock rings after a few hours and I get up. Mum is yelling up the stairs for me to hurry up for school. I groan, not being able to forget that meaningless yet vivid dream. It's almost as if I was awake at the time.

The entire day passes by, routine things that happen on a usual Wednesday. I go to school, get bored and bullied then go home. At home, I complete my list of daily chores. After dinnertime, I'm exhausted as usual. I do some homework and get dressed for bed. I check my clock. It's midnight. I lie down and fall asleep.

"Pierce? Pierce, wake up."

I groan and turn in my bed. I feel the bright morning sun hit my face. I jolt up, I'm late for school. I throw off the sheets and jump out of bed.

"Whoa hey, there's no need to rush," someone says. It's Sam from my dream last night. So does this make it a dream? It seems so real, though.

"I thought this was all a dream," I mutter.

"What?" Dean asks as he walks out of the bathroom.

"I was back at home, I woke up," I say. "This is so weird."

"So you went back? In your sleep?" Sam inquires.

"Yeah. Or I woke up. I don't know what's what anymore," I say, shaking my head.

"We'll figure it out later," Dean says. "Right now, we need to get some breakfast and get to the murder scene."

Whilst having breakfast, Dean walks off and doesn't come back for a while.

"Where have you been?" Sam asks.

"Went to get her some basic needs, like towels, toothbrush," he says, waving the white plastic bag he had with him. "And fake IDs."

"Fake IDs?" I take the laminated cards from him. There are a few IDs, one says Pierce Winchester; another has the name, Lori Smith; and another is Haley Chang. "Why so many?"

Dean points at the one with my name on it. "This is for your 'true identity' cause you need one, we'll just say you're our sister. It'll keep the cops off for a while if you need to."

"In case you haven't noticed," I say, "I don't exactly look like I'm related. Your name's Winchester, huh? Like the gun."

"Yeah." Dean shrugs, "I guess we'll say you're adopted or something." He points to the other two and says, "These two are for when we investigate stuff, to keep from getting into trouble, y'know?" Then he winks.

"Okay," I say, dragging the 'a' sound. I pocket the IDs just when he fishes out a cellphone from his pocket.

He hands it to me, saying, "This is one of my spare phones, I'm giving it to you just in case anything happens and you need to give us a call. Sam's and my other phones are all inside so you don't have to worry about a thing."

"Thanks," I say. "You didn't have to do all this."

"Of course we do," Dean says. "We might even have to teach you how to use a gun if things go bad."

"A gun?" I ask incredulously. Both Dean and Sam shrug. "Oh, God."

We reach a large house in a large compound. There are yellow tapes going around the beams of the house, blocking any form of entry. Aside from the tape, there are no signs of policemen anywhere.

"Aren't there supposed to be police everywhere?" I ask.

"Yeah, well, they don't come too early," Dean replies. "That means we have some time before they come and we risk getting caught."

They stride up to the house and walk under the yellow tape as if the 'CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS' along them mean nothing. Dean picks the lock and we enter the house. I go in with abated breath, unsure of what to expect.

The house seems empty and everything is in order, as if nobody had just died here not too long ago. I follow closely behind them, glancing backwards every now and again. Dean is currently going everywhere waving this old CD player thing around, the lights on top of the device is light up in an orderly fashion like a heart beating. Faint beeping noises came from the device and it peaks my curiosity but I decide to hold off questions until we are safely outside.

I strained my ears to hear for any noise outside above the thumping noises of their heavy footsteps. Soon enough, my nerves gave way and I couldn't take the noise anymore. I stop walking and fall back.

"Guys, stop for a bit," I tell them, going only above a whisper.

"Is there something wrong?" Sam asks, worried.

I shake my head, "No, but your footsteps are too loud I can't tell if there are other noises."

"Noises? What noises?" Dean asks.

Then, we hear sirens and engines pull up to the house. The sound of car doors closing follows then men's voices start getting closer to the front door.

"We need to get out," Dean decides. "Check if they have a back door."

We sneak out towards the kitchen at the back as fast as we could with light steps. The chink of keys ran through the silent house.

"I hope you parked your car somewhere safe," I whisper to Dean.

"It's around the corner, they won't suspect a thing," he hisses.

I look down the hallway and see two figures behind the frosted glass. "Hurry!"

We reach the kitchen which only has a window above the sink. Dean runs and lifts the window pane and motions for me to get through it. I perch on the sink before crawling out head first. I realized my mistake too late and hit my head on the hard concrete ground three feet away. I used my hands to carry the rest of my body out none too gracefully. They poke their heads out to see if I'm okay and I wave to them from my place on the ground before clutching my hurting head. I watch Sam jump out feet first, wondering how he managed to get through the gap not more than a foot high. He finds his bearings and helps me off the ground, checking to see if my head injury is serious.

Dean comes out and closes the window quickly. He says, "I think the police saw me when I closed the window. Let's go."

We run away from the window but I hear the window slide again and stop, knowing we can't escape the police. I hiss at the two in front of me to stop running and walk like normal people. They listened to me and we walk away as if we were just having a morning stroll.

"Hey, kids!" A gruff voice calls and we turn around feigning innocence. We look at the police poking his head out of the window.

"Yes, officer?" Dean asks, smiling politely at him.

The officer looks at him hard before asking, "What are you doing here? It's private property."

"Oh sorry, officer," Dean says. "We didn't know."

The officer scowls at Dean before looking at the rest of us and I muster as much innocence as I can. Deciding that we were just a couple of playful youths that take no regards of others privacy, he lets us off with a "Don't let me catch you here again."

"Yes, sir," Dean nods. "Have a great morning, officer."

The officer huffs and closes the window. We get into the car and I burst out laughing.

"Why are you laughing?" Dean asks.

I catch my breath and manage to say, "It's funny."

"Funny? What was funny?"

"Lying to authority," I answered.

Dean grins, "Well, you seem very comfortable with it."

I shrug and say, "I do a lot of lying and sneaking around back home."

"Why? Doing shady things, are you?" Dean looks at me as he starts his car.

"No, nothing bad," I say. "Just some sneaking out at night occasionally for a party or two."

Dean grins at Sam and says, "I like this girl. She can stay."

Sam shakes his head incredulously at the both of us. "Back at the house, you told us to lighten our footsteps, why?" Sam cocks his head at me.

"Well, if you walk around stomping like an elephant, you're bound to be heard," I shrug. "It's pretty logical."

"How do you know these things?"

"Like I said, I tend to sneak around without my parents' consent," I smirk. "Some things you learn with experience."

Dean scoffs.


	3. Chapter 3

We are back in our motel room with pizza for lunch, Dean and Sam decides to check out the house again tonight. In the meantime, they try to figure out my mystery.

I tell them how only a few minutes will pass after a full day with them. I recount that I don't carry anything back with me. The only time I did bring things over was just the clothes on my back and my lucky bracelet and my pentagram necklace from the night before. They tell me that I was there the entire night, I didn't disappear or anything. I wonder if my body at home would get injured when I get hurt here or vice versa. I guess I will find that out when I get home later, with the rather big bruise blooming on one temple.

"So this means your body stays and your mind comes here," Sam concludes. "Somehow you manage to appear solid here without transporting your physical self."

Dean pokes my shoulder and says, "She's solid, alright."

Sam looks at him with a stern expression, "I would know that, I was the one who carried her from the road to the car and into the room, remember?"

Dean pulls a face before going back to a more serious expression. "So time travel, maybe? What year is it?"

I answer almost immediately, "2013."

"Not time travel, then," Sam says. "Maybe like a different dimension or something?"

"Dimension? Don't be stupid, Sam," Dean says. "The only different worlds available are heaven, hell, purgatory and earth."

"It doesn't feel like a different dimension," I say. "Apart from the fact that I'm now aware of demon hunters, everything seems like the earth I know."

"Maybe there's a reason for you to come here, a purpose or something to fulfill," Sam suggests.

"I'm not aware of anything I'm supposed to do," I say. "I didn't get any instructions before being zapped here."

"Most times, weird things happen for a reason," Sam reasons. "So if we can find out what it is you're supposed to do, you can go home or something."

"Yeah," I nod. "Only thing is that I already did go home. It's like I just woke from a dream or something and went back to reality. And it also feels like that when I wake up here. It's like I have two lives or something and sleep lets me move between them."

"That's seriously weird," Dean says.

Night falls and we are back at the house again. We creep in as quiet as possible and my senses heightens. Dean whispers to Sam to split and that he checks upstairs while Sam goes through the ground floor again. Dean grabs my wrist and tells me to stay close. In the dark, with the knowledge of a creepy death that happened in this house, the place seems a lot scarier than it did during the day.

My nerves are shot and on high alert. I follow closely behind Dean, hoping nothing will pop out behind me. Dean starts waving his beeping device into each room, but I'm not sure of what he's listening for. We reach the master bedroom at the end of the hall. Once we reach it, Dean's device starts beeping crazily.

"Is it supposed to do that?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says. "It means some spirit has been here. I'm guessing this is where they found the body."

I look around and true enough, the queen sized bed is soaked in blood. Dean walks in cautiously and I follow suit. I shine the torchlight they had given me and I follow the dark stains of blood as they lead off the bed and towards the door.

"The victim tried to escape," I say. "He didn't make it to the door," I observe. There is a splash of blood traveling up the wall halfway between the bed and the door and that ends the path.

"It means he managed to dodge the attack," Dean says. "Usually, they die on the spot."

I look at Dean who is looking at the furniture and waving his device around them. "There's sulphur everywhere so it's a spirit of some sort," he explains. "So now we have to figure out who this killer is and why he is killing people."

I freeze when I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. The footsteps come closer and closer and I back away from the door. The footsteps stop and Sam's voice calls out for Dean.

"We're in here," Dean responds and Sam comes in. "You nearly gave us a heart attack there."

"Sorry," he says, "so what've you got?"

"Sulphur," Dean answers. "Stinks of it."

"Okay," Sam says. "I've some photos downstairs and it looks like the victim lives alone, no family pictures, nothing."

Our discussion is cut short by sirens wailing past. Dean looks out the window until the sirens stop and people start running down the street.

"We should get out," Sam says. "Is the front door clear?"

"I guess," Dean says. "We just have to be real subtle about it. Everyone is going down to the other end of the street."

So we creep out and blend in with the crowd of people gathering at another house. We squeeze in between to get closer. Some police are questioning some witnesses by the side while others are going in and out of the house.

"Come on, I want to take a good look at the body before they take it away," Dean says.

We walk up to an officer who seems to be the one in charge. He stops us and tells us that we can't go in.

Dean fishes out an FBI badge and flashes it at the police. "We're in the FBI, we just heard some commotion and came to check it out," he explains.

The policeman takes the bait but looks at me skeptically, "You look a little young to be in the FBI, missy."

"She's with us," Dean says before walking towards the house.

The policeman lets me pass and I trail them out of the chaos and into the house. We ask somebody where the body is and went to the bedroom. The signs of struggle in this room are strangely similar to the one in the first house. There is a pool of blood on the bed but the body is sprawled on the ground, on hand reaching towards the door. I nearly throw up at the sight of the dead body but I keep it down and force myself to look at the victim.

"The victim is a male, 28 years old," Dean tells Sam and me after talking to the police. "His name's Michael Anderson, lives alone."

Sam crouches next to the body and looks at it. He lifted the head and glassy eyes stared at me. I fight to swallow the tears choking me. I can see the double holes where the victim has been stabbed. The holes are facing different directions. The one in his kidney came from the front and out the back while the one in his chest is the other way round.

I point to the wounds and say, "He was stabbed."

"Yeah," Dean grunts, "Left kidney and the heart."

"The killer must have stabbed him in the kidney first, then the heart when he is trying to crawl out."

"It's weird," Dean agrees, "Whoever or whatever it is could've just stabbed him straight to the heart, but it wanted to see him suffer first."

We are once again in our motel room. Dean is chewing on a burger he bought for supper at the table, bent over the laptop. Sam is sitting on the other bed that is covered in papers and leather bound books.

"Are you sure you don't want to eat?" Dean asks me. "You look a bit pale."

"I'm fine," I assure him. I try my best to look him in the eye. The truth is, I'm starving but the sight of the dead body makes me want to regurgitate anything that goes in my mouth. "I'm just tired," I mutter. I play with my necklace, avoiding eye contact.

"It's the body, huh?" He asks. I stay silent and he continues, "It's like that, the first time is always the worst. You get used to it soon."

"You say it like we're gonna see more dead bodies," I state gravely. I look up from my pendant and he shrugs.

"Wait till you get your first kill," he remarks before taking another bite from his burger. "You'd have nightmares for a week."

"Dean!" Sam nearly shouts. "If you could stop scaring her, that would be great."

Dean sighs, puts down his burger, takes the packet of chips on the table and walks over to sit beside me on my bed. He holds up the arm nearest to me. "C'mere," he says, gesturing for me to come closer. I lean towards him and he brings his arm around my shoulders. "I know it's traumatic the first time, it'll get better."

Silent tears stream down my cheeks as I mourn the death of someone I have never even met. "That's a terrible way to die," I mutter. "The poor guy is innocent."

"Actually," Dean says, "most of the time, the victims aren't as innocent as you think. They could've had dark secrets that they bring to the grave; sometimes they caused their own deaths, summoning scary things they can't control. They brought it on to themselves, mostly. It is a terrible way to die, can't deny that, but I promise you that I'll do everything in my power to not let you die that way. Okay?"

I look up into his eyes, realizing now how green they were, like granny smith apples. I nod and he smiles which crinkles the corners of his eyes.

"Now eat," he says, pushing the packet of chips to me. "You'll feel better."

"Thanks," I whisper and he gives my shoulder a small squeeze before getting up and returning to his work. I eat the chips and felt a lot better almost immediately. After eating enough to tide me till morning, I look around at the two of them buried in their research. "Do you want any help?" I offer to Sam, who is sitting near to me.

He looks up and his eyes turn into sad puppy dog ones. He shakes his head, "No, it's fine. You've been through a lot today. Go to sleep."

I nod and get under the covers. I pull my hoodie tighter around me to keep out the cold and I drift off to sleep.


End file.
